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* Kevil fingers his pass and eyes the half-elf from the corner of his eye as they approach the designated meeting point. "Do, please, try to follow my lead, d'va?" * Aeryn nods warily. "Aye, I will try." He gives a fleeting grin in Kevil's direction. "So long as your lead is clear, that is." * Malach lurks in a darkened corner of an alley with all the skill of a seasoned pimp. His shadowed form is barely distinguishable from the wall and darkness around him. <Kevil> ::smiles tightly:: And recall that *his* main objective is to take his men home, alive. They are not going to be willing to do anything overly dangerous on our behalf. ::he looks around cautiously, then crosses the street and enters the specified alleyway, looking around openly:: * Malach slides behind Kevil, the air barely moving as he shifts. A whisper of steel is the only warning before a cold blade is pressed firmly under his chin. "Don't move." * Kevil tenses, his hands half-lifting in the beginning motions of self-defense before he tightens his hands and freezes. * Aeryn gives the empty street a quick glance before crossing the road to the alleyway, stopping dead when he sees the two. His face tightens. <Malach> You're the one? Who sent you? ::his voice is flat with nerves:: <Kevil> ::softly, the calm of his voice belied by his tense posture:: Darla. I have her note, if you wish to see it. * Aeryn relaxes slowly and puts his empty hands out to the sides as he steps further into the alley, the better to be out of view from the street. "Aye, and I am with him." * Malach holds one hand out. "Give it to me. Slowly." He spares a flicker of a glance at the lurking half-elf. "You were supposed to be alone." * Aeryn raises an eyebrow at Kevil, but does not move otherwise. <Kevil> Darla is a lovely and trusting girl. I do not share in her easy trust, I fear. ::slowly, Kevil reaches into his pocket and draws out "Darla's" note and holds it out for Malach to take. * Malach takes the note and studies it, the blade relaxing from Kevil's throat, but not quite dropping. "Very lovely, I agree..." He sighs, then steps away from Kevil, sheathing his sword. "I ain't so very trusting myself." <Kevil> So I surmise. ::He turns to face Malach and looks him over appraisingly:: Are you satisfied? May we speak now? <Aeryn> ::smiles faintly:: Then that would make three of us. ::He steps slowly out of the shadows, hands still in full view:: * Malach backs towards a cellar hold and flips it open. "Not in the street. Go in." * Aeryn looks at the mercenary for a moment, then shrugs and heads through the door. * Kevil glances at Aeryn, then steps down into the cellar, his tread wary. <Malach> ::the cellar is much what anyone would expect for a root cellar in a damp, swampy area: in a word, unpleasant. It is dank and damp, poorly lit by a lantern hanging from a peg. Jars of preserves line the dirt walls in rickety-looking shelves. A set of untrustworthy stairs lead up into the main house:: <Aeryn> ::looking around:: Charming. * Kevil scans the corners of the cellar for others, then leans against a wall and crosses his arms over his chest. Not coincidentally, his choice of position gives him a view of both sets of stairs. * Malach shrugs. "This whole be-damned swamp is charming, far's I can see." He stares hard at the half-elf. "Who are you?" * Aeryn raises an eyebrow. "Would giving you my name be a wise course of action?" <Malach> ::touches his sword hilt meaningfully:: I c'n have it engraved on your gravestone, half-man. If we're here to discuss my men joining you in your fight, you'll give it. I don't bleed for anyone I don't have a name for. <Aeryn> ::nods in acknowledgement:: Aeryn, a ranger of the forests. Caught here in Marsember by mischance. <Malach> You an' the rest of the city... ::he glances at Kevil:: And how's your darling little sister-in-law? ::his tone shifts to a barely audible longing:: <Kevil> ::raises an eyebrow:: Darla is well enough. She sends her greetings. How is my wife? <Malach> ::takes a deep breath and expels it slowly:: She's sick. We're doing what we can, and I'm no physicker, but... ::he shrugs helplessly:: <Aeryn> Do the orcs understand what they are playing with, letting them get sick like they are? <Kevil> ::nods soberly, his expression pained:: The sooner we loosen the orcs' hold on the city, the better. <Malach> ::glowers at Aeryn:: Do orcs understand anything more than 'Sit! Stay!'? I tell you, we're doing what we can. But the damn greenies don't *get* sick. <Kevil> ::looks at Malach directly:: The three they 'executed' recently died of the illness, did they not? <Aeryn> And if the rest of the city finds out that their loved ones will die anyway, regardless of their behavior? <Malach> ::nods almost reluctantly:: I wasn't there, but I think so... <Malach> ::to Aeryn:: Then we're going to have a general war on our hands and a *lot* of people are going to die. <Aeryn> ::softly:: {Damned if we do, damned if we do not. Goddess help us.} <Kevil> ::nods to Aeryn:: {I, for one, would rather die *doing*.} ::he looks back at Malach:: I understand you have a few men who are sickened by the dishonor they are being forced to bear, who might turn on the orcs if they had a chance of success. <Malach> ::nods again:: Some few. You might say that I'm leading the "opposition." <Aeryn> Might you have approximate numbers? Of either side? <Kevil> ::smiles grimly:: Good. I would not claim to be leading the resistance, but I believe I have no small influence among those willing and capable of action among Marsember's numbers. Let us speak of strategy. <Malach> ::ticks off on his fingers:: The hussars and the Ninth Dragoons are gone, sent to reinforce Arabell. I already talked to their captains. Half of 'em are planning to desert once they're ten miles outside the city. That leaves four hundred mercs still in town. Give or take. <Aeryn> ::considers:: Are any of those loyal to you stationed within the drydock area? Enough for a chance to take it bloodlessly, or at least safely? <Malach> ::looks at him flatly:: There's no such thing as a bloodless battle. <Kevil> How many of the four hundred are with you? ::thoughtfully:: Including those who are not actually members of the opposition, but are loyal enough to follow an officer who is? <Aeryn> ::smiles darkly:: Aye, there is. Where only the other side bleeds. <Malach> About half... ::he shrugs:: And I wouldn't trust Carper's men not to run, at the last minute. Best count on about a hundred and fifty. <Malach> ::raises an eyebrow at Aeryn:: Then you've either never seen a real battle, or you've used up all your luck already. <Kevil> ::glances at Aeryn:: That is a hope and a wish, not a thing to count upon. ::he nods at Malach's numbers:: If they run, at least we must not fight them. Two hundred to stand against, plus the orcs... ::he scratches at his beard:: Have you any control over how the men are assigned? <Malach> Some... the duties are decided at dice, the worst going to the losing Captains. ::he almost smirks:: I'm not such a bad hand at rigging a dice game, if I've a mind. <Kevil> ::grins briefly:: Is it possible to rig things for a particular shift so that all the men within the drydocks are *not* among your numbers? * Aeryn blinks and looks at Kevil. <Malach> ::raises an eyebrow:: What's your plan? <Aeryn> ::then, understanding, he grins:: <Kevil> I know a man who has a... gift for arson. But there are limits to the number he can protect. If none of yours are withinthe compound, he need only shield the hostages. <Malach> Fire? That's chancy... <Kevil> ::snorts:: This entire venture is chancy, Captain. <Aeryn> ::nods:: So, what other parts of the city must we take to avoid the general war you mentioned earlier, good Captain? Or is that not possible? <Malach> It's your city... I ain't pissing on it to put it out... ::he shrugs:: If you're planning that, best for me to get Gorgan's halbadiers in there. They're crack, and I don't fancy fighting them in the streets. <Kevil> I believe that my friends can free the hostages, if the number who must be protected is limited. At the same time, you and your group might be able to assist us in neutralizing the orc's mages and general, and- ::nods to Aeryn:: -any others who might foul our chances. <Malach> ::snorts:: Woundwort's gotta go... him and his precious mages are near all that holds the troops together. They're so bleedin' proud and afraid of him... it'd kill their morale, at worst. <Kevil> ::nods, grimacing:: And he will be difficult, to say the least. Still... ::he shrugs:: We have some few who are not without talent. * Aeryn makes a wry face. "So that means either we assault the King's Tower, or catch him outside during an inspection of some sort? Not to mention the mage academy to get to the orc mages?" <Malach> ::cautiously:: Would your... arsonist... be put out by a few men in with the hostages? Just in case... <Kevil> ::echoing Malach's cautious tone:: A few. Though if you have access to magical protections from fire, you may wish to see such items are wisely rationed, d'va? There are limits to his strength and abilities. <Aeryn> ::frowns thoughtfully:: Captain, how often does Woundwort make inspection tours? Does he follow a set path, if at all? ::he grins:: And would you think him fast enough to dodge an arrow or magical bolt? <Malach> ::nods:: <Malach> I haven't shadowed him... and you won't be able to stick an arrow in him. He's got a... a something that deflects those. <Aeryn> ::shrugs slightly:: {Nothing is ever easy.} Well, it was a thought. <Kevil> ::idly:: I wonder if it is an item, or an actively maintained spell... If the mages fall... <Malach> Don't know about that... magery's not my field. <Aeryn> If the mages fall, we would find out one way or another. I would rather not fight one his size up close. So then... first the drydocks and the orc mages, then the general and his remaining troops? <Kevil> Nor is it mine, but I know a few for whom it is... ::smiles wryly:: I would prefer to coordinate simultaneous attacks on the three targets. It will generate more confusion and lessen the chance that one group might appear to support another. <Aeryn> ::nods slightly:: So, is our...arsonist...capable of taking the drydock by himself? <Kevil> I would not send him by himself. If nothing else, the bright angel will insist on being at his side, to prevent him from overextending himself. The master smith claims some skill at wall-breaking, also. <Kevil> ::looks at Malach:: Would you prefer to stand your men against the General, or the mages? <Malach> ::scratches his chin:: You'll need good, professional men to take that mage-tower... <Aeryn> ::looking at Kevil:: And good, professional mages to take on those of the orcs. <Malach> ::snorts:: I ain't got any spare mages in my back pocket. Don't know about you. <Kevil> ::shrugs:: I know one excellent mage, but I do not know what her combat skills are. And I know a few... amateur mages. And some few others who are skilled at *fighting* mages. ::nods to Malach:: We will need good, professional men at both locations, in truth, but I would understand if you would not wish to divide your forces. <Malach> I ain't keen on takin' too many chances. Mixing with your men, we got a good shot of ending up on the wrong end of someone else's sword. Townsmen ain't gonna be too particular about *which* mercs they try an' kill. * Aeryn smiles faintly. "A good point. So that leaves Woundwort--and those with him--for the rest of the town?" <Kevil> ::eyes Malach:: You know each other, d'va? Wear the clothing of townsmen over your armor. <Kevil> ::snaps his fingers:: Which reminds me - I wonder if you might be able to obtain for me a mercenary's uniform, to fit a man about so. ::he gestures Vallel's approximate height and build:: <Malach> ::nods:: Easy enough. I've some spares, and they ain't that very complicated. <Kevil> Thank you. * Aeryn glances at the door. "I do not have a pass to be out of a night, so I believe I shall take my leave of you now." <Kevil> ::glances up at the high, narrow window, and nods to Aeryn:: Thank you for accompanying me, my friend. * Aeryn nods his head to Kevil, then bows slightly to the mercenary. "My thanks." * Malach sketches a half-salute to the ranger. * Aeryn glances out the door cautiously, then vanishes into the shadows of the alley. * Kevil watches Aeryn go, then looks back at Malach. "You would feel more comfortable, then, if our few mage experts accompanied you and your men to the mage tower, than in assaulting the palace?" <Malach> ::nods:: I think it'd be safer. We've some training in dealing with mage-kind before. Your city folk'll scatter as soon as someone throws a half-baked illusion at 'em. <Kevil> ::reaches up absently to fiddle with his earring, finds it missing, and tugs on his earlobe instead:: Should I be concerned that you would rather face magic than fighters? It is rare that one encounters warriors of any sort who would make such a choice. <Malach> You should be concerned about lots of things. But I've already told you enough to get myself spindled. ::he sighs:: If it makes you more comfortable, I ain't doing it for you. I *seen* those mages in action, and if you send townsmen against 'em, they're all going to die. <Kevil> ::shrugs and grins:: If the line has been crossed, what harm in another few steps? But no, I had not thought to send inexperienced folk into the mage tower. ::he sighs:: Though the inexperienced will run or die just as surely, facing orcish warriors. <Malach> Call it penance, if y'need a reason. ::he looks suddenly tired and deflated:: <Kevil> ::shakes his head:: I need no reasons. I only need to recover my wife and daughters. Your needs are your own. <Malach> ::in a low tone:: I never backed from a contract before... ::looks up at Kevil:: So, when? <Kevil> I do not know, for certain. I must consult my comrades. As I said, I claim no leadership among them. But I think it must be soon. ::he eyes the mercenary for a moment:: Darla was quite... impressed with your wealth. I do not believe we could truly match your price, even if our stolen goods were returned to us. But we could draw up a contract for... a consideration. A price unrevealed. Your reputations need not suffer, if the word was that you had been bought out, d'va? * Malach nods dully. "That'll help, some. I'm not so much for my own, you know, but my troops..." <Kevil> ::nods:: I am familiar with the mercenary's code of honor... And with situations which place one ethic at cross-purposes to another. I am... sorry, for what it is worth, that you and your men have been forced to make such a difficult choice, though I can not be sorry that you have made it. <Malach> ::softly:: It could be my sister... ::he sighs:: I'll put mine on standby. Have Darla come see me, two days before you're ready to strike. <Kevil> ::sympathetically:: Thank you. I... think she will be glad to see you. * Malach hesitates a moment, then digs into a pocket and hands Kevil a cloth-wrapped bundle. "Give her that, will you?" He turns to the stairs. * Kevil nods, then stands in silence to watch Malach go. He waits several more minutes, hesitating, before opening the bundle. <Malach> ::inside the cloth glitters a single diamond on a gold chain, elegant and probably very expensive:: * Kevil draws a slow, deep breath and touches the pendant with one finger before carefully re-wrapping it and tucking it carefully into his pocket. He closes his eyes as his lips move in a silent prayer. Finally, he climbs the stairs and goes out into the night. |
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